Page 18 of Breaking Emilee

“Not that long. For someone who reads a lot, you sure do read slow.” I joke with her but notice I said the wrong thing when I turn around.

“S-s-sorry,” she whispers. I instantly feel like an ass for saying that.

“Baby, it was a joke. I would never make fun of you. I read so much slower than you. I promise you never have to worry about me saying something to hurt you.” She doesn’t say anything, just nods, and I can’t help but kiss her forehead.

I hand her the jeans. “Here are your jeans, but your shirt and hoodie are in the dirty clothes hamper. They still have soda and blood on them. I’ll wash them and bring them to school tomorrow.” I turn around so she can put her pants on.

“What about your shirt?”

“Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.” Knowing that it’s chilly outside, I head to my closet and pull down a hoodie that I hand her behind my back. “You can keep this too, so you don’t get cold.”

“Thank you.” She takes the hoodie from my hand, brushing my fingers with hers. I smile at the thought of her wearing my clothes.

“You can turn around now. I feel bad we didn’t even get to decide on a book or anything,” she says while pulling her hair into a ponytail. Picking up my helmet from the desk, I hand it to her.

“Don’t worry about it. I have one figured out. What if we read the first Harry Potter book and do our project over that? I have the movies, and my aunt bought me the first book a while ago, but I never got around to reading it” I grab her hand and lead her out of my room and through the house.

“Parker, that feels like cheating since I’ve read that book.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “It’s not cheating. It’s taking the easy road, and I think you could use it right now, don’t you?” I ask while I help put the helmet on her. We don’t have time to discuss the project further because we are racing against the clock. Our makeout session left me with little time to get her home. She directs me to her house out in the country. When I pull up the driveway, I see a stern older looking man standing on the front porch. She slides off and goes to hand me the helmet. I put the kickstand down and shut off the engine.

“What are you doing,” she asks, looking scared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I just think that it would be best if I introduce myself. That way, they know who’ll be stealing all your time,” I say as I place my hand on the lower part of her back and walk her up the sidewalk to the porch.

“Papa, this is Parker, my…”

“Friend and partner on the project,” I cut her off and held out my hand. He takes it and gives it a rough shake. “Nice to meet you, sir. Emilee has told me so much about you.” I say, looking him directly in his eyes to show that I’m not scared of him. I mean, I am going to be spending time with her, and I am going to get him to like me.

“Nice to meet you,” he says before turning to her. “Emilee, supper won’t put itself on the table.” I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from telling him she’s not a damn slave and to fix dinner himself.

Emilee goes to walk away from me. I stop her by grabbing her hand and turning her around so she’s looking at me, “Thank you for all your help with the project today. I’ll talk to you later.” I lean in and pull her in for a hug, whispering in her ear, “Text me as soon as you can, and remember, no cutting, baby.” Over her shoulder, her grandpa’s eyes narrow, his lips pull into a scowl, and he looks like he wants to rip her from me. I let her go, walking backward till she disappears into the house. Only then do I turn around, keeping my eyes on my bike. I get on and start the engine. He is still staring at me, so I wave and reverse out. I can tell that he doesn’t like me. That’s okay with me because I don’t like him either. He’s hurting my girl, even if he doesn’t realize it, but he will stop that shit very soon. She is now mine, and no one will hurt her anymore.

Pulling up to my house, I can see that I have company. Standing on the front porch is Vanessa. She is wearing a short ass skirt, and I can’t help but hope she is freezing her ass off. Seeing her, it hits me that I never asked Emilee if she had proof of the bullying. This sucks because now I have to wait a little longer to say something. “Shit,” I whisper to myself. Louder so she can hear me, I say, “What do you want.”

“I wanted to see you and thought we could have dinner together since your aunt is not home,” she fucking winks at me. She’s standing in the middle of the top step, forcing me to go around her to get to the front door.

“No, I don’t want to have dinner with you,” I say, not keeping my anger out of my tone.

“Is this about what happened earlier? I’m sorry, baby,” she says, stepping close. “Where were you, by the way?”

“I was dropping off a friend.” It’s not that I’m ashamed that it was Emilee. I just figured it would be better for Vanessa not to know. “Look, Vanessa, I’m tired and don’t want company. Can you please leave?” I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying Emilee by not yelling and confronting her. She agrees to go, but as she leaves, she kisses me, and I have to swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. I was so determined to tell her to leave Em alone the first time I saw her again, but here I am, not doing it. I don’t know if it’s because I need evidence so they can’t deny it or if it’s the promise to my aunt that I don’t want to break. While washing off her kiss, I don’t like who I see staring back at me.

CHAPTERTWELVE

The feeling that something big is on the horizon is settled in my stomach, and it refuses to leave. My mind refuses to accept the fact that I had a complete mental breakdown after telling Parker everything that was going on. Did he really see my arms and not run away screaming about how fucked up I was? When I move my arm, the smell of him reaches my nose for the millionth time, and when I pull my hands into the arms of his hoodie, it reminds me that this afternoon was, in fact, not a dream. Papa isn't happy that I came home on the back of Parker's motorcycle, but I can't bring myself to care about him lecturing me. He's standing in front of me, and his mouth is moving, but I don't hear a word. I'm still in a Parker daze, and I'm not sure I ever want to come out of it. A lot of first happened this afternoon, someone learning about my secret, my first kiss, my first make-out session, and I can't forget the hottest boy I have ever seen said he wants me. I don't know how long I've been standing here in my own thoughts, but Papa must have said everything he wanted because he's no longer standing in front of me.

Even though I would love to stand around with my head in the clouds, the need to please my grandparents to keep seeing Parker is critical. I need to show them that I won't slack on their demands, so things need to be done and done quickly. The rest of the evening goes by in a haze. After serving dinner to everyone, cleaning up, and ensuring everything is set for tomorrow, I can finally be alone in my room with my thoughts. The guilt from being unable to work on the project this afternoon eats at me, even though he said it was fine. His idea to read the first Harry Potter book is genius. Not only do I own the book, but also the movie. Before crawling into my bed for the night, I grab my used and abused copy of the story from the overflowing bookshelf in my room.

Sitting on my bed, I'm trying really hard to get lost in the book's beauty, but I can't focus on the words. I'm only on Chapter two when I notice I have been rereading the same paragraph three times and not taking anything in. The scenes in my head aren't from the book but from the hot kisses Parker and I shared. The urge to talk to him is a hard one to ignore. For the first time in months, I have someone I want to talk to and be sociable with. The sound of his voice calms me down better than any other thing I've tried to do in the past. Pulling my phone out of my bra, nerves shoot through me, and my chest feels tight at the thought of calling him. So instead, I settle on texting him. Even though he told me I didn't need to thank him for what he did, I still want him to know how appreciative I am of it. Getting off my bed, I push my door to where it is half-closed. That way, if anyone is walking by, they will only see the foot of my bed rather than what I'm doing.

Me: Even though you said I don't have to, thank you. I know that everything I told you is a lot to take in. I'm sorry

His reply comes back instantly.

Parker: I told you there is no reason for you to thank me. I mean everything I said today. I got you. I'm going to take care of you.

Butterflies take off in my belly. He's going to take care of me. As a friend or more? I want to ask but can't find the courage to do so.

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